


The Far Shore

by Kiraly



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Apocalypse, F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Long-Distance Relationship, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: The end of the world comes with a devastating side effect: No internet. It sounds like a joke, unless someone you love lives on the other side of the world. This is a poem about that.





	The Far Shore

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me last night during a round of the late-o-clock blues. I got to thinking about communication breakdowns in an apocalypse setting, and how hard it would be, on top of whatever else was happening, to be in a long-distance relationship and just...suddenly get cut off. I wanted to play with the idea of someone going to great lengths to reunite with a loved one.
> 
> I put some pretty heavy warnings in the tags, just in case, but many of the events here are pretty ambiguous. Such is the beauty (and confusion) of poetry.

When the world ends

I do not hold my loved ones in tender hugs

or hopeful lies:

_ All will be well.  _

You see, the internet is down.

I cannot reach

my far-flung family,

or you, equally precious,

for all that we embrace most often through keystrokes.

_ I less-than-three you.  _ Hollow assurances,

meant as promises

for a future now gone, 

replaced with

_ Did you see the news? _

_ Is everything all right over there? _

_ Tell me you’re safe.  _

_ Message failed. Retry?  _

Instead, I load the car with water bottles, blankets,

and canned ravioli;

turn the radio volume up,

and drive east.

Away from city traffic,

skirting smog-clad highways choked with cars,

I wind my way

through forgotten cracks in the countryside

to the coast.

_ I ran out of gas,  _

I type the words, though they won’t go anywhere.

_ I had to steal some. Abandoned cars everywhere. _

Another night, another hour too tired to drive,

too lonely for sleep:

_ I didn’t really steal gas. I stole a car. _

Stench of spilled booze, keys denting my palms

_ It wasn’t abandoned. But I did him a favor.  _

Hours listening to his plans. Smile. Nod. Wait.

_ Don’t drink and drive, right? _

I have plans, too, more important ones.

When I reach the sea,

sun rising over the water of a dying world,

I eat my last can of ravioli,

drop my shoes on the sand,

and wade in.

_ We’re not so far apart now. _

The battery ran out long ago, but I add a mental heart emoji anyway.

I let the waves lap at my legs,

knowing you,

on your own side of the ocean,

will be up to your knees

in this water that binds

and divides us.


End file.
